Odes
by tracelynn
Summary: whispers / echo through the blacksilver world / she has created. the story of two deities, two impervious beings. their only downfall is each other. (1/7) (Freeverse) {Written for CP's Shipping Week} (Various Freeverses) (Most recent freeverse's description will be put in this summary)
1. Kysa

she's left him

of course she has

[three months after to be exact]

just his luck

alone on the first year

who can handle it all

alone?

she'd show him

she'd teach him

she'd grieve with him

but she's gone

and now he's left

sitting on the stage

two pieces of paper

whisked out of the

twin glassy spheres

the boy's older than him

[but he acts like he's twelve]

the girl

seventeen like him

pretty

quiet

kind

innocent

curious

[her name is kysa]

they lose themselves in one another

as the metropolis approaches

* * *

hands tangled in hair

lips brushing against lips

unintelligible voices

blurred

into an enthralling

concoction

she has never felt so alive

never so real

never so full

she is kysa luhrman

but one night makes her his

she is kysa luhrman

he holds her fledgling heart

on a silvery chain

* * *

drums beat

through his chest

fuzzing his mind

blurring his morals

percussion rings

on either side of her

as hooves clop

and hands applaud

he is hidden

wrapped in tight gray robes

as he shills for sponsors

she is stark

drizzled in coal

dust

open for all to see

[and to touch]

she flees

scurrying up

to her room

he waits in the doorway

 _you looked beautiful tonight_

 _i'm scared_

 _you looked wonderful tonight_

 _i'm worried_

 _you looked exquisite-_

she ends

the useless rambling

the groping for

affection

lips against lips

bodies against bodies

heat and breathing

two stark bodies

hidden under covers

* * *

 _what is that!?_

 _i showed them everything_

 _they'll kill you, you know_

 _isn't that for the best?_

 _a 7 is not for the best_

 _really?_

 _you're going to to die kysa_

 _i'm prepared, mitch_

 _don't call me that_

 _you know you love it_

 _screw you_

 _you like doing that, don't you?_

he storms off

she's rather pleased with a 7

lucky number, right?

* * *

they're supposed to be

deciding her angle

instead they're

draped across one another

entangled on the

chaise lounge

two emptied

flutes of champagne

tossed

carelessly

onto the carpeted floor

he breathes in

her Capitol-made scent

lemon zest

and pine

but underneath

is a fragrance

that can only be described as

 _theirs_

hearts

tossed casually to the wayside

where a fire burns

irreparable damage

thrown up like smoke

into the air

always out of reach

but always there

* * *

not even a week and he'd sell his soul

for her

[not that there's anything of worth left in there]

he knows if he loses her

it'll be the last crumbless day

that kills the starving child

that is his feeble

quivering heart

she looks like

a girl

pure

innocent

free

sated

her curiosity has been sapped away

replaced by hunger

drive

want

need

he can't fill that hunger

he's selfish

he won't give himself up for her

he knows that's a lie

* * *

 _you make me want to live, mitch._

 _not survive._

 _not exist._

 _live._

he finds the crumpled note

after their last night together

tossed underneath the bed

he opens his mouth to ask about

this scrap of paper

but she's already sound asleep

he presses his lips softly against her forehead

and leaves

kysa's eyes fly open

roving fingers check that the note is gone

all is good

 _goodbye haymitch abernathy_

* * *

she will live

he is sure of it

there have never been repeat victories

no district

ever has had two wins in a row

not even 1 or 2

and surely not 12

who only managed to scrape up

a second representative

a year ago

in haymitch abernathy

he is that single surviving victor

that single ember

of hope for the emaciated

children that waste away

in the seam

haymitch will make a repeat victory

his only friend,

chaff abwenza of the 45th

prepares a bottle of whiskey

for the boy

haymitch knocks the glass away

 _kysa will survive. she must._

and then haymitch realizes

the meaning of her note

 _live_

it's already too late

* * *

sharp, bitter

wind, snowflakes flying

her raven black hair billows

like a dark omen

a harbinger of doom

she smiles serenely

while the girl from 7 to her left

almost lurches off her pedestal from nerves

and while the boy from 10 to her right

starts screaming for his mother

before the countdown's even past _50_

when the countdown reaches _40_

kysa starts a verbal barrage of her own

 _capitol murderers_

 _you kill us_

 _with grins and glee_

 _you slaughter us_

 _with "good intentions"_

 _you prepare us_

 _to be killed or controlled_

 _you relish us_

 _when we're coated in red_

 _you enjoy us_

 _dead and in coffins_

 _shipped back home_

 _i will not stand for this_

 _this is not cowardice_

 _this is defiance_

 _this is me living my own life_

 _and not dying by your will_

 _live_

 _i will live on in the hearts of those_

 _who will rebel_

 _because the capitol will fall_

 _and my soul will laugh_

 _as your pretty painted faces burn_

 _5_ left

she steps forward with a rebellious cheer

blown sky high

 _you make me want to truly live, mitch_

* * *

how could she know?

she doesn't know her mother's maiden name

she doesn't know her mother's cousins

people don't keep things like that around

in places like 12

how could this girl

this fiery, star-crossed lover girl

[just like they were]

know

that her mother's maiden name

was luhrman?

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. This was written for Caesar's Palace Monthly Oneshot Contest. Prompt: "You make me want to live, [Rowan]. Not survive; not exist. Live." Later on I will add other freeverses to this, but for now it's a stand alone. :) Please review with your thoughts!**

 **P.S. Thanks to the wonderful Bellicose Blue for beta-ing/DocXing! Go check out her works, they're amazing! :D**

 **Until next time,**

 **Tracee**


	2. Whisper (Deities I)

wisps of fatality

curl around

her wrists

smooth tendrils

wrapping

squeezing

choking

smoke rising towards the sky

enveloping her as she ascends

shattered glass glints around her

shards digging into her skin

instead of red

silver

pours out, stretching across the endless

black skies

slicing through the smoke

stringing its spotted net across the heavens

the glass burrows through her

filling her veins with reflections of themselves

whispers

echo through the blacksilver world

she has created

 _who are you?_

 _where are you?_

 _what are you?_

her mouth

spills over with liquid gold

rubies glittering through the thick rivulets

pouring between the slim gaps in her teeth

 _i am glimmer_

 _i am everywhere_

 _i am a goddess_

the murky clouds of smoke and grime

that drift in thick formations beneath her glowing feet

part with a reddish glow

sandy brown hair

a goofy smile

muscles beyond comparison

 _may i marvel upon your beauty, goddess glimmer?_

she glides towards him

wrapping him in her embrace

which is made of starlight and lust

 _yes. you shall marvel. you shall_ be _marvel._

so cliched, so cheesy?

she agrees

that's the little perfect story that she made up to make herself feel better

no one likes the truth of them

of their creation

of their birth

of their harmony

of their communion

least of all her

* * *

 **A/N: Here is the first of 7 short freeverses about Glimmer and Marvel for Caesar's Palace Shipping Week 2016. The prompt for this one was whisper, and I used it very loosely I guess. The rest should be posted daily! :)**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **Tracee**


	3. Shout (Deities II)

**Trigger warning: mentions of prostitution and abuse**

* * *

screams aren't uncommon

in this part of town

a stone, launched by his leather covered foot

clatters onto the threshold

of the brothel

 _are you a man, marvel?_

his father's voice crackles behind him

 _happy thirteenth birthday_

eerily, falsely smooth hands

shove him into the shadows

all sorts of sounds reverberate around him

as the door clicks closed behind him

his eyes dart around and he hides behind a plush chair

as men and women spiral throughout the hall

in various stages of undress and glee

he spots her

curled up underneath the table next to him

dirty blonde hair

a good body for a girl so young

he can have her if he pleases

he scoots close to her

she recoils, eyes darting for an escape route

his hands touch the first button

of his gingham dress shirt

and he can't be a man

instead he holds out a hand

 _i'm marvel_

he takes her hand

she turns her head away

and scampers through the hazy corridor

leaving him behind the chair

she shouts as the owner of the facility

Kicks her in the back

 _get on with it_

he hisses

 _go to the little boy_

 _or no dinner_

the man stumbles away

arm looped around another prostitute

she quivers as she returns to marvel

he sees the bruise forming on her face from when owner

punched her an hour prior

he holds out his hand

 _let's go_

she hesitantly slides her small, delicate hand

into his

he shoots to his feet and pulls her out of the door

shouts arise as the owner chases after them

marvel throws a broomstick the man's way and it hits him square in the chest

gasps for air and shouts of peacekeepers

marvel takes glimmer's hand again

and leads her to the academy

she'll never understand why all of the other girls

think marvel is so drab

so normal

he saved her

at least she tells herself that

as she trains to kill

competing for the entry slot

the others have a decade's advantage

but glimmer can't go back to the brothel

she'd rather die

it's no wonder she's the chosen volunteer four years later

the only thing: marvel's at her side

* * *

 **A/N: The second one, from the prompt "shout". Sorry if this was a bit triggering or more mature than a majority of my work. I just wanted to show the dark side of 1 that I have in my fanon. I hope you liked it! :) Please review.**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **Tracee**


	4. Cry (Deities III)

**Trigger warning: mentions of abuse and prostitution**

* * *

14 years old

dingy gold hair cleaned and straightened

rough-around-the-edges body

"tweaked"

like a machine

she's alone most days

staring at him from across the cafeteria

as he chats with the other high ranking boys

and stumbles in his flirtatious attempts

sometimes she wonders if he's brought others

to this place

sometimes she wonders if he's killed

he surely was able to hurt back in the brothel

sometimes she wonders if his blood turns to fire

and if his tongue turns to ash

whenever she walks by

of course that only happens to her

he's too wrapped up in the other girls

he doesn't realize she'd give it all for him

 _burls!_

she shoots to attention

eyes meeting eyes of the trainer

she's drifted off

daydreaming

 _would you like to tell us about your thoughts, missy?_

 _no_

 _get on the mat and pick up a practice sword_

of course he makes her use

her worst weapon

her thinnish frame isn't made to hoist a blade

she's all tender love and little muscle

a bow or throwing knives are her better weapons

she steps onto the mat

wooden sword in hand

trainer has her on the floor in twenty seconds

a big red cut throbbing on her left cheek

oozing blood

she whimpers and the others laugh

trainer kicks her in the ribs

 _get up and go to the nurse's, whore_

glimmer sniffles as tears involuntarily pour down her face

 _i'm not a whore_

 _yes you are_ pipes one of the girls that's got marvel wrapped around her finger

she shoots the girl and dirty look and kicks her in the breasts

the girl squeals and falls to the ground

glimmer picks up the sword and smashes it into her head

tears flow freely from the girl's eyes as the trainer grabs glimmer

 _burls! damn it burls damn it damn it damn it you gave jott a goddamn concussion!_

 _i'm not a whore_

glimmer flees the room, darting into the changing room

as she exits

fresh, snugly fitting clothes wrapped around her damp body

marvel appears, presses her to the wall, and kisses her hard

 _you're hot_

 _i'm not a whore_

 _i'll make you one_

glimmer can't even speak as lips dance against lips and the day slips away like a tear from her stunning blue eye

* * *

 **A/N: And here is the third of seven, from the prompt Cry. I hope you enjoyed it, and please review! Thanks for reading!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Tracee**


	5. Announce (Deities IV)

**Trigger Warning: Mentions of prostitution and abuse**

* * *

the trainer stands on the podium

irony would have it be the one that slashed open her cheek

irony would have it be the one that brought them together

irony would have it be the one that found them locked in the closet

irony would have it be the one that sent him away from her once again

but irony doesn't have a place in the

 _flawless_

halls of the _D.O.C.S.A._

so it is the dean

a victor named zion

who plucks the slips of paper from the bowls

one slip in the right bowl

one slip in the left bowl

hands dance between

spheres

breath hitched

eyes near-glazed

teeth mildly chattering

heart pounding

 _ican'tgobackican'tgobackican'tican'tican'tican't_

 _glimmer burls!_

she screams in delight

letting the joy and bliss inflate her

[she doesn't inflate too much however. they did give her a tummy tuck for a reason]

she prances onto the stage

grinning wildly

she didn't think she'd make it

after brushelle's perfect 10 on knives

or ghloe's hand to hand combat skills

are they just putting up a sacrifice in her?

she doubts it

and if they are she's happy it's her

she can't go back

she won't be a whore

[she can't be]

she'd rather die

[even she wishes for a more honorable death than suicide]

her eyes skim the sea of boys

as zion whisks the other slip out of the bowl

 _marvel cunnings!_

marvel grins, and for once he's more than a loser

more than a wannabe

he's going into the games

spears sinking into targets for hours on end

has paid off

glimmer looks appalled

but he ignores that fact

they had a fling back when they were 13, 14

he hasn't spoken to her since

she looks at him like her heart's exploded

he barely remembers rescuing her from the brothel

connections

strong on one end

weak on the other

announcements

bitter to one

joyous to another

it's all a matter of point of view

* * *

 **A/N: 4 out of 7, for the prompt Announce! Please review if you can and thanks for reading!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Tracee**


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